Hakuouki: Komorebi
by TheFuzzyKiwiFruit
Summary: Long before Chizuru came to Kyoto, before the research for the Water of Life even began, a lone girl arrived at Shiekan Dojo. Many years later, there are still those who cannot fathom how in the world Kondou Isami managed to turn the pitiful sack of bones that was Chosokabe Akira into the most feared ninja of the Shinsengumi.
1. Akira I

_A/N: Hello! This is a little something I've been working on for a long time since I first got into Hakuouki a couple of years ago, and I feel like I'm finally ready to show it to the world! I've been really nervous because, well, if you're familiar with OC stories, there's a particular trope that is despised in the community, and I've decided to try to break it here by writing it right. I hope I've succeeded? God knows how many times I've reread this over and over again to try and get it just right ;w; Anyways, for those who don't know, I'm a big fan of writing OC-centric stuff, so I'd really appreciate an open mind and as always, I only ask that you read 3-4 chapters before you make a judgement about my story. If you still don't like the story by then, feel free to leave a harsh ranting review and I promise I won't bother you with long defensive PMs. Enjoy now :)_

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Akira I

There are some idealists who believe that any unusual feature you are born with is related to how you died in your previous life. Assuming people who think this are correct, Akira must have died from getting stabbed in her left eye. Or of an infection to her left eye. Or getting mauled in the left eye by an animal.

Speculating about such things brought her comfort in the early years of her life. Believing that the peculiarity about her appearance that terrified her parents and neighbors was the result of an event she could not control helped her to shift the blame for it away from herself and to whichever nameless, faceless person that had caused the demise of her previous incarnation.

Akira's brother approved of this way of thinking and even encouraged her to continue coming up with theories as to why her eyes colors were mismatched.

A fairy kissed her left eye and left it a brighter color.

The god who was responsible for her creation just lost his glasses at the time.

Maybe the gods just dropped her off in the wrong time period or the wrong place, and she was actually supposed to be born into a world where heterochromia was a normal and common feature.

If there was a proper place where a girl with one brown eye and one gray eye belonged, the gods must have missed it by centuries and leagues because where Akira ended up was a remote Japanese mountain village in what the westerners, whose lives will someday fatefully cross with hers, called "the eighteen-hundred-forty-fourth year of Our Lord," born to parents who were highly superstitious and were not-and never-ready to accept a daughter with such a defect.

"She-demon" was a name that she heard often in her toddler years both from her parents and others who lived in the village and since then, several variations had arisen, all circling around the demon theme. The population of the small village feared and avoided her, but other times they found the boldness to openly regard her with disgusted, malicious eyes. Which is worse: to be feared or to be hated? That question dominated Akira's toddler mind often, and she wished they would just pick one or the other.

As far as she remembered, her parents had never spoken a word to her other than abrupt orders to stay inside the house or to go to sleep, and the closest they'd come to expressing affection is reluctant tolerance. Her day-to-day life consisted of staying out of sight and carefully watching the moods of her mother and father, gauging their reactions to everything she did and looking futilely for signs of acceptance or love.

From an early age, she understood and accepted the ritual of family life. Don't talk your mother or father. Don't _look_ at your mother or father for too long. Don't talk too loudly. Don't go outside the house without wearing something over your face. Don't talk to the neighbors. Don't _look_ at the neighbors. Don't bother your brother; he is studying hard and will become a great and educated man one day. Don't distract him when he comes home. Pretend as if you don't exist.

.

To Akira, her brother was an amazing person, someone who had travelled beyond the confining walls of their modest country home, who had seen a far larger world than imprisoned Akira could ever hope to see through the small, coverless window of their bedroom. He could magically process information from what looked like mindless scribbles across a piece of paper, and he even spoke differently since learning proper grammar with his tutor. The homework his tutors assigned was filled with concepts that Akira couldn't begin to understand, and his writing was beautiful and neat and earned the praise of their parents and many of others who lived in the village.

It wasn't so much Akira distracting her brother that her parents ought to have worry about but rather her brother distracting himself with animatedly telling Akira about his day every time he came home from school. His stories were the highlights of her otherwise monotone and purposeless daily life, and their parents eventually gave up trying to keep him away from Akira as long as he continued to make progress through his education.

"Come here, Akira."

He waved his sister over with a reassuring smile while their parents weren't looking one day when Akira was three and he was ten.

Akira walked over to him silently. With time, she had gotten good at not drawing attention to herself, and she had observed that her parents were happiest when they didn't notice her in their lives. Thus, much of her energy was put into suppressing her own presence, and this behavior soon became second nature, even in the company of her brother, the one person she trusted.

"Do you want to learn how to read and write?"

He had a barely hidden twinkle of excitement in his dark brown and completely _normal_ eyes.

Akira stayed quiet, but the subtle change in the wideness of her eyes was enough to tell him that she was interested, _very_ interested. And alarmed.

Kei waved a hand dismissively and smiled that boyish smile of his that Akira could only describe as the smile of someone who had the sun for a soul.

"Don't worry, Akira. Mother doesn't have to know and if she finds out, I'll just tell her it was part of my homework to teach what I learned to someone else. What do you say? Shall Kei-nii-san teach you how to tell a story from looking at scribbles?"

When Akira started nodding without even realizing what she was doing, something inside her broke, but it was a good type of breaking, like destroying the first door to a musty jail building that had held an innocent prisoner for too long.

.

People felt sorry for her parents, and Akira knew it. Her parents were humble peasants just like everyone else in the village, and yet somehow they'd produced an offspring that was an omen of misfortunes, a child whose defect was surely a curse from the demons. Though they pitied the Chosokabe family, it did not mean they had sympathy for it and for several months after Akira was born and word spread through the village, no one would buy the crops her father harvested or the baskets her mother worked so hard to make. When people looked at Kei, however, they smiled and did their best to pretend that he was an only child and not only the pride of his family but also the village for he was one of the few who was educated.

Kei often tried to deny it, but Akira knew without any doubt that her birth damaged her family's reputation beyond total repair. The only thing that prevented them from completely being shunned by the other villagers was Kei. Charismatic, smart, and ridiculously kind Kei, who probably would've been even more popular if he didn't spend most of his free time with his supposedly cursed younger sister.

Akira would have been too young to have her own memories of it, but she had deduced from unintentionally eavesdropping on her parents' hushed conversations that the only reason she wasn't disposed of when she was a few days old was because Kei had raised such a big fuss against it.

At her best times, talking with her brother, learning how to read and write, and conjuring her own images of what the lands beyond her bedroom window might look like, Akira loved Kei for not only giving her a chance to live but also for loving her back.

At her worst times, when her mother wept at the sight of her, when her father blamed his bad harvest on his cursed child, when no one in the village even had the decency to lower their voices while talking about the pitiful Chosokabe family, Akira believe that her brother was the biggest fool of all to save her. She was an unwelcome extra mouth to feed, a waste of space in their already tiny living quarters. It was because of her that their parents argued and fought every other day, each blaming the other for being the cause of Akira's existence. Each time they caught sight of Akira's dual colored eyes, they were reminded of their burden.

Kei told her one day, absentmindedly, while doing his homework with Akira sitting behind him, something that she would never hear again for the rest of her life.

"Don't tell anyone, but I think your eyes are really pretty. I wish I had an eye that didn't match my other one."

Akira clenched her fists and curled her legs even closer to herself than before.

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

" _No_."

Akira repeated with more force, causing Kei to actually turn away from his homework and look at her, letting at a breathy laugh.

"Figures. People always do want what they don't have, huh, Akira?"

"You don't know how precious it is to be normal until you're not."

Kei put down his pencil and looked over his shoulder at Akira with a hint of annoyance in his eyes accompanied by a disapproving pout.

"There is no _normal_ , Akira. There's just people, who are all a little different from one another but in the end, we are all people. Look, the brown of my hair is a little lighter than yours, right?"

Akira subconsciously touched her own darker, borderline black, hair. It was long and tangled from years of lack of maintenance; her appearance didn't matter anyways since she rarely saw anyone outside of the family.

Kei continued with enthusiasm, his previous disapproval disappearing as he spoke more positively. His hands were warm when he picked up Akira's bony and freezing cold fingers.

"Everyone's appearance is going to turn out a little differently. But if we look at …hands, for example, they have pretty much the same structure. Diversity is part of being a person so really, your eye color variation isn't that big of a deal."

She watched him smile widely before he spun around to get back to his writing.

"…Really?"

"Of course, Akira. Big brothers don't lie to their little siblings, you know."

.

When Kei was thirteen, he discovered his gift for drawing, and that was also the year he travelled further from the village than he had ever gone and did his best to capture the amazing sights he saw on paper in order to show Akira upon his return. That year, when Akira was six, she saw her brother's drawings of the ocean and rivers and the view from the top of the mountain and the flowers of southern Japan, and she wanted to go there too. Her desire to leave- _escape_ -bubbled up inside her. She wanted to fly away.

One day, Kei suggested another one of his utterly insane but wonderful ideas after showing her his drawings.

"We'll split up the world."

"What?" was Akira's unintelligent reply.

He smiled as if he was glad that Akira asked.

"The world really is a beautiful place and considering that I've seen the whole world, and you, Akira, have hardly seen any of it as of right now, the entire world belongs to just me."

Akira stiffened, unsure of where her brother was going with his plan.

"That's not fair… I want some of the world too."

"Exactly, so your nii-san is going to give some of the world to you, even though you haven't seen it all yet, and then someday I'll take you to go see your parts of the world."

He smiled proudly as if it was the greatest design known to mankind, but he was _already_ smiling-how can someone who is already smiling smile even more?

Akira's face lit up slowly as she became fascinated with the idea, completely been won over by the thought Kei's grand scheme.

"To start off, I'll bequeath to you, my sister, the flowers, the mountains, the moon, and the sun."

The grandeur and dramatic way he declared his gift caused Akira to crack an extremely rare teeth-showing smile. Something fluttered inside her, and she sat up a little straighter, more attentive, because she owned _the flowers, the mountains, the moon, and the sun_.

"And I, the great Kei, shall get the ocean, the rivers, the sky, and the forests, of course."

"I'll trade you the sun for the ocean."

Akira really liked the ocean. And the sun didn't suit her as much as it suited her brother.

Kei contemplated the trade momentarily.

"No, not worth it."

"I'll hand over the moon too."

"Alright, deal."

Akira nodded and although nothing really happened, she suddenly felt freer and more powerful because her brother split up the world between them, and mountains and the ocean were hers.

A second door of her internal prison building softly clicked open.

.

Akira snuck out of her house for the first and last time when she was eight. Her brother had left an important book at home that he needed for school, and she didn't want him to get yelled out by his tutor, so she thought that she'd just quickly slip out and give the book to Kei before he'd gone too far. It was a cloudy day but not chilly, and Akira snuck out of the back door of her family's dingy house, clutching her brother's book to her chest nervously. Promising herself that she'll be back very soon-too soon for anyone to notice she was gone-and that she was doing something to make her brother happy, she circled around to the front of the house and started off. She imagined him wearing a relieved and grateful smile when she finds him.

The people in the village did not appear to pay attention to her much, and Akira, encouraged by their indifference, grew bolder in her exploration of the world that she had always seen outside her window, always out of reach. She openly gaped at the sky that was so bright even though the sun was absent and inhaled deep breaths of the air that smelled of things she could not identify. Her thin legs carried her further and further away from her house until she couldn't see it anymore.

With her turning her head this way and that, to a passerby, Akira must have looked lost because that would have been the only reason a middle aged woman would have approached her from behind, placing a worried hand on her shoulder.

"Have you lost your parents, little one?"

Startled, wide-eyed Akira spun around to face the woman, shoving the hand off of her shoulder hastily. In slow motion, she saw the warmth in the woman's concerned eyes fade away like scattered flower petals and quickly replaced by unpleasant surprise and horror.

The woman recoiled back with a cry as if Akira had burned her, and her scream drew the attention of nearby strangers who, until this time, hadn't paid any heed to the young girl. The woman shrieked something incoherent while shakily backing away from Akira, pointing a trembling but accusing finger at her.

Akira ducked her head, willing all the people to disappear or better- for herself to disappear. She stumbled backwards, staring right back at the woman, unintentionally mirroring her terror. Her back bumped into something, and she realized that it was another person, this time a man whom she had caused to drop a stack of wood he was clutching.

Everywhere she looked, strangers' eyes glued onto her, some narrowed with anger but most watering or wide with fear. She desperately searched from one pair of eyes to another, hoping with all she had that she'll find a pair that looked at her normally or even with a hint of sympathy. No such eyes looked upon her.

There was a shout, but she couldn't discern where in the gathered crowd it came from. Urgent whispering filled the once peacefully quiet air and from somewhere, a baby started crying.

The crowd parted astoundingly quickly, people jumping back to avoid being touched by her, as Akira fled.

In no conscious direction, she ran, her throat burning and closing up, making it hard to take in the big breaths she needed in order to get away quickly. She stumbled and tripped after a few steps but practically flew back up and kept running as if it never happened; she wanted to get away so badly.

Not long after the commotion, Akira was found by her father whom she'd never seen so utterly furious and dragged back home by the hair, sobbing and screaming.

Perhaps for all the years Akira had been locked in the house, her parents had been hoping that if she remained hidden long enough, she would be forgotten. They often spoke as if Kei was their only child, and no doubt it had been slowly working until Akira finally disrupted the progress by sneaking out that day.

First, his father hit her once they were back in the privacy of their house, and it was the first time Akira remembered that he physically hurt her.

A single phrase played repeatedly in Akira's muddled mind as her father resorted to kicking her as she lay limp on the ground.

 _How long has he restrained himself from doing this?_

When her mother returned home, already aware of what happened from hearing the talk of the village, she quickly took her husband's place, screaming with grief as she smacked Akira repeatedly, sobbing about how "I _told_ you to _never_ leave the house."

But no matter how much they beat Akira, it could not reverse what had happened that day, and the rumors erupted in the village again with new fervor and spread perhaps even faster than ever before.

Supposedly, from what Akira heard as she lay dazed on the cold floor while her parents argued with one another about what the hell they were going to do, the village had hosted a few travelers that day, and surely the travelers would not be able to keep their mouths shut about the "She-demon of the Mountains" once they depart. Not only did Akira again damage her family's reputation, but possibly also the entire village's.

Kei returned home that day to find his mother and father both exhausted and spent as he walked through the sitting room. Both their eyes were red and neither of them greeted him when he arrived. He found his sister curled up in the bedroom he shared with her, her body shaking and face littered with bruises and cuts. Upon closer inspection, he saw that her eyes were closed and a wet stain was on her cheek pressed against the bed.

She still clutched his school book in her hands, and he gently slid it out of her loose fingers and set it aside before circling around to lie down next to her, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Akira shifted, proving that she was not asleep as her brother had thought, but did not turn to face him.

"It's not a beautiful world, Kei."

.

The demons came to Akira not long after she snuck out of her house that day.

She had vague memories of their visit, so vague in fact that for years she was convinced it was all a dream, a sleepy hallucination her exhausted and desperate mind had conjured to offer her even the slightest comfort after the disastrous recent events. Only when she encountered them again years later did she fully understand the purpose of their appearance before her so long ago in the bleak darkness of her room in the remote village home.

On a cold winter day, they materialized out of the shadows, three figures whose faces Akira never completely forgot despite the gloom of the night which should have made it difficult for her to see clearly; one with dark skin, one with cold eyes the color of blood, one with no eyebrows. Even in her half unconsciousness, Akira sensed an abnormality about them that would put her heterochromia to shame and as if recognizing her own kind, her sub-consciousness told her _demon_.

What had further convinced Akira that it was a dream was her strange lack of reaction to the trespassers. In her sluggish condition, not even the revelation that demons-real demons that the villagers could scarcely imagine-stood before her, could elicit even an expression surprise at their intrusion or a call for help. Her brother was away from home, visiting another city with his teachers, and Akira was alone.

In her hazy, dreamlike state, the girl was aware of the demons, taking on the forms of men and standing over her while talking amongst themselves; their conversation was in a language that was Akira's own, and she half listened, teetering on the line between interest and indifference.

"Eye discoloration… humans to lose their shit. I told you… recognize a she-demon… got your hopes up…"

"… The chances… one of us. Needed to confirm… cannot risk leaving to abuse of humans…"

"… Take her with… Too young to tell…"

Akira could not guess how long they debated amongst themselves before she surprised both the men and herself by speaking. Her voice came out cracked and so soft that any creature lesser than a demon wouldn't have heard her.

"Have you come to take me away…?"

Silence followed her question, and Akira had just begun to lose hope that they'd answer her when one of the three finally spoke up.

"That is likely. Will you come with us?"

"… Am I one of you?"

"It's too early to tell right now, but we hope so."

"If you're so sure, let's just grab her and go."

"No, it would cause unnecessary issues for us _and_ this girl if we are mistaken."

Akira heart ached dully as she squeezed her eyes shut against hot tears. If demons themselves recognized her as one of their own, then she truly _was_ a curse to her family, and Kei had made the biggest mistake saving her. In that moment, the demons seemed like incarnations of the gods who were responsible for Akira's birth into a world that didn't want her, who knew her better than she knew herself, who had all the answers. A sudden desperation to know the truth came over her, and she struggled to speak louder and with more urgency.

"Please, _please_ , tell me if I am human or…!"

When Akira recalled this memory over and over again throughout her life, she was sure that she would have almost gladly gone with the demons if they'd simply told her that she was one of them, given the amount of credibility the nature of their existence gave them. She would have believed them wholeheartedly and been happy to leave with them, to carry her curse away from the village, and to disappear from the human world forever.

But instead, their answer to her pleas that night set her life on a completely different course.

One of them had had enough pity for her to convince the other two to provide a proper resolution for Akira's inquiries, and the girl felt one of her limp hands being lifted.

"If you really want to know, there's actually a simple way to tell. You'll have to take some pain though."

To Akira, that condition hardly deterred her. What was a little pain in return for finally making peace with the subject of her true nature, an uncertain dilemma that had plagued her for years? What harm did pain do when she's used to receiving it from her own parents? Even if it killed her, would it not be worth it have resolution at last?

The girl put up no resistance when one of the demons unsheathed a long knife that looked like a blade of ice in the glow of the moonlight and prepared to press the sharp edge of the weapon into her hand.

"Wait."

It was not Akira who stopped the procedure but the demon with no eyebrows, his eyes narrowed at Akira's wrist and forearm which had been exposed as her hand was lifted and her sleeve slid away.

Dark bruises littered her arm from Akira's most recent abuse at the hands of her mother and father some days ago.

The demon with no eyebrows gestured to the ugly splotches on her skin and urged his companion to put away the knife.

"This proves it. We have watched her for two days, and in that time we have not observed any instance of violence that could have been the cause of these injuries."

Blood red eyes instantly narrowed at her with displeasure when only seconds ago they held great interest and even hopefulness.

"I see. How disappointing. If that is the case, there is no reason for us to stay here among this filth."

Akira did not understand.

"What does this mean…?"

Two demons had already turned to leave, all their interest in Akira vanishing so swiftly that it almost offended the girl, but the one with no eyebrows lingered to reply to her.

"A true demon would have healed from your injuries long ago. Your recovery rate is even weaker than that of an average human from what I can tell. You are _no_ demon, Chosokabe Akira."

"…"

Akira could find neither the words nor the energy to speak, but her body slumped as if she had been released from being bound by chains, and she closed her eyes against a wave of tears that she knew was coming though she didn't even know why she cried.

When she opening her eyes, all that was before her eyes was the gloom and emptiness of her room and the loneliness of the wind gently blowing around some of the dust on the floor, erasing any footprints the demons may have left. Akira could almost believe that they were never there in the first place.

In the morning and the immediate days that passed, Akira would forget about what she presumed to be a dream, but as time drifted further and brought with it hurt and lonesomeness, the memory came back to her in her darkest moments, and the words of those men who may as well have been figments of her imagination offered a slight but enduring comfort. Their voices floated quietly in her sub-consciousness and provided just the thinnest string to pull her from the abyss when she thought she would tip over the edge, never to find her way back up again. They, the demons, never fully healed her from the hatred of the world-nothing ever would-but they planted the seed to one of the great mysteries of Akira's life that, when solved, would complete the circle of her story.

She would know them by their names in twelve years.

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 _A/N: Thanks for reading all the way until the end! I've written up to 25,000 words of this story already, and honestly it's difficult to figure out how to split chapters ;w; this chapter and the next one were supposed to be one chapter, but then I would have had a first chapter that's over 8,000 words long OAO; A-ah, anyways, I hope you liked it, and feel free to leave a review!_


	2. Akira II

Akira II

By the time Kei was sixteen, the short writing and reading lessons he gave Akira dwindled to nonexistence as his own education became more intensive, and he no longer had the time on top of all of his homework. He was doing well, Akira had heard, and would surely earn a spot in the bureaucrat of the shogun, bringing pride to his humble village.

Akira often thought of her brother's success as her last hope.

Kei was amazing. Kei was smart. Kei was successful and respected, and the positive reputation he would bring to their family once he caught the eye of the shogun would far outweigh the shame Akira's existence had brought them all. The neighbors would respect the Chosokabes again, treat them like normal people, and tolerate Akira for the sake of her brother. Her mother and father would smile and not fight anymore, too distracted by their pride for Kei to remember their humiliation for Akira. Once Kei put his education to use and became someone important, everything will be right again.

When his schooling was nearly complete by the time he was seventeen, Kei started getting introduced by his instructors to lower level members the shogun's government and as a result, came home less often. Akira lived quietly at the house, staying out of her parents' way and never going outside.

Normal girls at her age would traditionally start learning from their mothers and grandmothers how to perform common female jobs in the home. Akira hardly spoke to her mother for both their sakes; her mother wanted to forget and Akira wanted to be forgotten.

On Akira's tenth birthday, her brother came home for the first time in days, and he wore a smile so bright that she mentally amended the statement she had made years ago.

 _Kei does not have the sun for a soul. The sun has_ him _for_ its _soul_.

Their parents swarmed him, welcoming him home and hardly noticing that they practically ran Akira over in their haste to get to Kei.

Once their mother and father had finished hailing his return, Kei found Akira in their once shared bedroom, and she noticed that his clothes were a lot nicer than anything anyone else in the village owned and his hair was neat; he'd probably just come back from a meeting with potential employers.

"Happy birthday, Akira."

He greeted with a small wave and the usual smile that he reserved for her. When around his parents, he had a more prideful and confident smile as if he had something to prove to them but with his sister, the smile was more modest as if to suggest that he and Akira were on equal grounds. Akira thought smugly that the smile her brother gave her was a thousand times better than the one her parents got. This time, however, his eyes twinkled with a greater joy than usual.

"Guess what, little sister?"

"What?"

Akira stared at him, wondering if she should go hug him because as of right now, she was only standing at an awkward distance from him.

She didn't have to decide as Kei scooped her thin frame up in his arms with ease and spun her around, causing her to let out a quiet yelp at the sudden action.

"Fujioka-sensei introduced me to one of the shogun's senior councilors, which is already amazing, but the councilor said that I have a promising future in the bureaucracy. After I finish things up with Fujioka-sensei, the senior councilor welcomes me to apply for a basic position right away."

He laughed now, hugging Akira so tightly that her chin dug into his shoulder.

Akira knew very little about what her brother was talking about, but he seemed very glad about it, so she automatically approved too and congratulated him.

After putting her down, Kei still held onto her hand.

"Hey, I was thinking that since it's your birthday, I'm going to take you somewhere really cool, okay?"

She only tilted her head at him with confusion and the slightest bit of reluctance. Since the incident two years ago, Akira had shied away from leaving the house again, though her parents had started beating her for other reasons.

It was as if that first time her father hit her had been like the cork popping off of a bottle, and her parents now no longer feared physically hurting her. Kei never mentioned it to her, though she knew that he figured out what happened, and he was often out of the house when the beatings took place. When he is present, however, there was nothing he could do anyways, so Akira liked it best that he'd just go away and save himself from witnessing it.

"I've already talked to mother and father, and they're really happy about the impression I made on the shogun's staff, so I've convinced them to let you out of the house. You just have to wear something over your eyes when we're around people, is that all right? Well-actually-it's more convenient this way, since the place is a surprise to begin with, so I want you to not be able to see anything until we get there."

 _Kei's enthusiasm is really contagious_.

That was Akira's only thought as she allowed her brother to drape one of his own childhood blankets over her head to act as a veil. He took her hand, and they left the house with no word or noise of complaint from their parents who, Akira suspected, were drunk on their delight for Kei's future.

The Chosokabes have been peasants for generations and considering the fact that their parents had lived the poor existence for the entire forty years of their lives, Akira could understand why a genuine chance to rise up in the ranks of society put them in such a pleasant and indulgent mood.

The air was cold, but Akira hardly noticed it as she walked beside Kei, keeping her head lowered behind the veil and using his hand as a lead. Her brother's warmth could make the winter die and the spring come early. The sound of their steps blended together as they travelled, and Akira did not know where she was being taken. The low buzz of the village faded from her earshot with time, and the ground beneath her feet felt rockier and more thickly covered with tickling dead grass. The path also began to incline upwards, and she grew tired very quickly though she endured for as long as she could before she started to limp, her legs aching.

She didn't have to complain before Kei easily pulled her onto his back and kept going, not very much affected by her slight weight. He must have felt how light and bony she was and kept quiet for a mere moment before he couldn't help it anymore and opened his mouth, speaking with a concerned tone carefully coated with lightness as if he didn't want Akira to worry about _his_ worries.

"Have they been feeding you all right, Akira?"

She nodded, and he felt the movement on his shoulder where her chin rested. It wasn't a lie; her parents still provided her with food, but lately it's become apparent that the quality of it had dropped immensely, most likely due to the second bad harvest in a row for their family, which was more evidence her father used to further prove that Akira's presence had cursed the family.

Kei was quiet again for a time, hesitating over what he was going to say next and not wanting to ruin the pleasant mood they were in-after all, this was supposed to be a celebration. But eventually, he managed to bite out the words reluctantly.

"… Have they been hurting you recently?"

"No, not for a while now."

Akira responded almost incoherently as her mind absently wandered to the bruises on her limbs that had almost faded completely from her last beating which took place some weeks ago.

"Can I live with you once you start working for the shogun?"

Eyes brightening a little at the mention of his potential job, Kei tilted his head to one side thoughtfully before a playful smile split his face.

"If you hand over the mountains, I might think about it."

Akira sunk with disappointment.

"But that only leaves me with the flowers, the ocean, and the forests."

Over the years since Kei split the world between them, they had traded pieces of it back and forth in return for certain favors such as who would sweep the floor in their room for the next month or who would count the firewood for their father. Kei aged, but Akira felt that there was no difference in his behavior or personality as when he was a ten year old.

Kei giggled, shifting her into a more comfortable position on his back.

"I'm kidding, Akira. If I end up living apart from mother and father, you are welcome to come along. You'll like the city, I think."

Her brother had been thrice to Edo, a large city supposedly not very far from their village (though everything seemed far to Akira) and just down the mountain, and once to Kyoto.

"Tell me about the city."

"It's a lot busier than here, I can say. Most people in cities don't farm, you know, so they do all kinds of other things for a living. You won't believe what I came across in Edo; an entire shop dedicated towards selling just teas!"

Akira had never had tea before.

"Fujioka-sensei told me that population there is well almost in the thirty-millions, what a number, don't you think, Akira?"

The girl frowned, not familiar with numbers so high.

"How many ten thousands is that?"

"That's three thousand ten thousands. I know it's hard to believe, but you'll see when you go there someday. All those people in the streets… No one will care what color your eyes are."

"… They won't?"

"What did I tell you before, Akira? Big brothers don't lie. Do you believe me?"

Akira smiled behind her veil, her eyes suddenly stinging.

"I believe you, Kei."

.

She heard the sound of it before she saw it. An unfamiliar noise that was distant and faint but grew louder like a coming storm as Kei walked on, the sound of something much bigger and more powerful than anything Akira would have known spending her entire life in the village until now.

"We're almost there, Akira," Kei said to her with quiet delight, and Akira knew that he was wearing that smile again even though she couldn't see much through her veil.

Time ceased to exist to Akira during that journey with her brother, and she didn't know if they'd travelled for less than ten minutes or over an hour. Natural light filtered through her veil and although she couldn't see much, she knew that they were no longer surrounded by the shade of trees like before.

When Kei finally put her down, the ground was rocky beneath their feet, and there was a wind much stronger than any breeze Akira had felt before that brought with it a spray of mist, cold against her skin. Her brain told her that she should be freezing, standing outside in the middle of winter in her flimsy clothes, getting slightly wet from the spray, but she felt no unpleasant cold.

A powerful gust of wind whipped Akira's veil off her head before Kei could take it off himself, and she was sprayed in the face with a thick layer of vapor that immediately forced her to close her eyes before she could discern much of what was around her. Her tongue darted out to run across her upper lip, and she tasted salt water before opening her eyes.

The sea, an endless expanse of dancing ripples and raging waves, lay before her beyond the edge of the ledge she stood on with her brother. The sound of water crashing into the side of the cliff was louder than anything else she had heard, and the sea spray was more liberating that she could have ever imagined in all her years of yearning to meet the ocean.

"Do you like it, Akira?"

Akira could only nod weakly as she wiped the salt water mixed with her own tears from her face.

.

And then, just when everything was coming together, things fell apart.

In another world, Akira may have returned to her village safely with her brother after visiting the sea, and Kei would have been off to work for the Shogun weeks later, effectively restoring the pride of the Chosokabe family. Perhaps a couple months later, Akira would have moved out with her brother, and they would have lived happily together in the city which Kei loved. In another world, Akira would have grown up in the bright parts of Edo and not where she actually ended up. In another world, everything would have worked out, but it all faded like morning fog because she made all the wrong choices on that frosty December day by the ocean.

For the rest of her life, no one would be able to come close to convincing Akira that what happened to her brother that day was not her fault because the fact was it _was_ Akira's fault. That was the simple truth, and no amount of sweet words or comforting pats could change it.

Her brother had shown her the ocean, and that should have been enough. That should have satisfied her. That should have been all she wanted. But it wasn't, and Akira, looking down at the roaring waters beyond the cliff they stood on, wanted to get closer.

She shouldn't have asked her brother for that. She shouldn't have asked him to take her further down to a small, rocky cliff below. She shouldn't have insisted when he was reluctant. She shouldn't have cheered when he finally agreed because he couldn't say no to his little sister. When he asked her to put her veil back on, she shouldn't have claimed that it was unnecessary when in truth, Akira simply didn't want to put that stifling cloth on her face. It would prevent her from better seeing the crashing waves and blue ripples. The day was cloudy but to Akira, the sea's beauty surpassed all she knew, and she could only imagine what it must look like on a bright summer day.

A small village sat on the cliffs by the ocean, and Akira should have noticed Kei tensing up when they got closer. She should have noticed the group of suspicious boys playing nearby, and she should have lowered her veil, but she didn't because the promise of the ocean blinded her.

She shouldn't have ignored Kei. She shouldn't have rushed ahead and gotten too close to the boys that were playing nearby, and she shouldn't have underestimated their cruelty.

It all happened so quickly that Akira could not recall the exact details of the incident years later despite the fact that the trauma of it should have seared the memory into her brain. At best, she could only recall the event in inexplicit snapshots.

The veil being ripped from her head.

The amused snickers of the boys who stole it and their mocking gazes.

Kei's eyes burning with rage once he arrived to see Akira on the ground after getting pushed down by the other children.

The boys, after seeing Kei and frightened by his approach, throwing the veil up in the air in a last act of defiance where the wind immediately caught it.

Akira herself running after the veil at top speed, keeping her eyes glued to it fluttering in the sky, because that was her _brother's,_ a memento from his childhood that was irreplaceable, and all she could think about was how sad he would be if she lost it.

" _Akira_!"

Her feet suddenly feeling nothing underneath them and then an abrupt force yanking her from the back, pulling her off her feet and backwards into the safety of solid ground.

Raising her head right after to catch the last glimpse of her brother tumbling off the edge of the cliff he had saved her from.

She didn't hear her own scream. She did not notice the pain on her neck where her collar had choked her as she was pulled back. She did not notice the veil flying further and further away out to sea, never to be seen again. She did not notice the shouts of the villagers who had heard her cry and come out to investigate. When she somehow arrived in her home village without having any memory of the walk back, she did not notice her parents sobbing and wailing in grief.

.

During the final five days Akira spent living with her parents, she did not know whether or not Kei was going to live. She was not yelled at or beaten or questioned when she came home, but she assumed that eventually her mother and father will recognize her fault in Kei's injury and punish her accordingly which would certainly be harsher than ever before.

A skilled doctor who was experienced in foreign medicine was passing by the village at the time, and he watched over Kei for two days after the accident. He spoke solemnly to Akira's mother and father at night, first about Kei's condition, which wasn't good, and also about the cost of medical services.

For once, as her parents spoke, Akira could not hear them in her room. Either they were truly discussing something that must be absolutely secret or Akira's hearing had dulled after listening to nothing but her own hiccups and sniffles for hours.

On the third day, her mother entered her room in the room, and Akira flinched, bracing herself for what she deserved after what she'd done to Kei.

"Come, Akira."

Mother's voice was quiet and gentle, more so than it had ever been in Akira's memory. She held her thin, nimble-fingered hand out to Akira and waited patiently until the girl finally swallowed her fear and took it.

Akira did not ask questions, although she had plenty of them, as her mother gave her a bath, dressed her in cleaner clothing, and then took her hand again as they left the house together.

Their home disappeared from sight after a few minutes and soon the village entirely as they walked further and further down a path that was only one of the many unknown to Akira. Her mother stayed silent, her face blank but her jaw set in subtle determination. Akira does not remember what the weather was like that day or what kind of sights she saw on her way to their destination.

.

Edo was the city Akira had always wanted to visit, but she hardly raised an eyebrow when her mother brought her there. The sights and the sounds of the city that she would have been excited about mattered little to her now, and she didn't look up from the ground until her mother stopped walking.

Before them is a large building dimly lit with many levels and a thick aroma of expensive perfume drifting out from the inside.

The manager of the establishment, a middle aged man with hawk-like eyes and slicked back dark hair, gazed at Akira and her mother with suspicion when they entered. He narrowed his eyes at their shabby clothing and seemed to immediately identify them as country hicks.

"Sorry to tell you, lady, but you can't afford this place."

"I'm not here for your services."

Mother's voice is cold but contained as she replied before nudging Akira, who had been hiding behind her, to come out.

Akira kept her unseeing eyes lowered, hardly hearing the conversation between the man and her mother.

The manager's eyes lit up with understanding as he saw Akira and, since there is only one reason a young girl would be brought to his establishment, he caught on quite quickly. His sharp gaze became critical as he looked her up and down before coming around the podium he stood behind in order to get a better look at Akira. He bent down to her level and Akira instinctively closed her eyes tightly as he roughly turned her face this way and that with inspection.

"She's not bad. How much do you want?"

"At least fifty hundred yen."

The man's interest in Akira almost instantly faded once he heard the price, and he stepped away from Akira.

"She's only worth at most half that price."

Although she hardly showed any reacted to the situation, Akira realized at that moment the reason why she was cleaned and dressed nicely today and why neither of her parents had laid a finger on her since Kei's injury. She was going to be _sold_ -it wouldn't look good if she had bruises and cuts all over her-and the two people before her were negotiating her monetary worth.

Mother seethed a little after hearing the manager's blunt conclusion.

"Akira, open your eyes."

"Mother…"

" _Open them_!"

Shuddering with a start, Akira forced her eyes open and looked up at the hawk-faced man who stood near her.

With her heterochromia visible, the manager's eyebrows shot up in surprise though she couldn't tell if it was pleasant or not. Mother seemed satisfied with the man's reaction and gave Akira a reassuring push forward.

"You don't have anyone here with eyes like this, right? Give her a few months of training and she'll be a big hit."

"You have it right that people around these parts _do_ like bizarre things…"

"Fifty hundred yen and she's yours."

"… I'll be making a bet though. How does thirty hundred sound?"

"No lower than fifty hundred."

"Have a good day then."

The manager waved dismissively and went back to stand behind his podium, focusing once again on the papers he had been examining when the women came in.

Akira wanted to leave, but her mother didn't move, standing still as a statue as a pained expression furrowed her eyebrows. After a few seconds, she closed her eyes and reluctantly conceded.

"Forty hundred. That's the lowest I'll go."

Glancing up again from his work, the man's lips twisted in a sour expression, but he didn't refuse immediately. After taking another brief look at Akira, he sighed.

"I will discuss it with the owner. Come back in two days."

The look on Akira's mother's face was not completely happy, but she looked at least relieved that her offer was being considered. She took Akira's hand again, her touch too gentle for a person doing what she was doing.

When they returned to the village, Akira was led back to the room she used to share with Kei and when she tried the door after Mother was gone, she found it locked.

.

Akira was bathed and dressed in clean clothes again two days later but this time, her mother's grip on her hand was iron as they made their way down the mountain to Edo again. At the same tall building as they'd come to before, they entered to find the same man standing in the entryway.

He looked up from his work when he heard the door open, and the pleasant smile that spread across his face when he saw them confirmed to Akira that the deal was done.

Akira watched with glass eyes as a sack of money was placed in her mother's eager hands, and the man wore an amicable expression like a business man should after sealing a decent deal. He held a hand out to Akira, and the girl knew she had no choice as she took it and stood next to him obediently as her mother turned to go.

She left without a single farewell or backward glance and as Akira watched her through the windows crossing the streets, figure shrinking with distance, the girl swore that she had never seen her mother so at peace.

Akira never saw that woman again.

* * *

 _A/N: As always, thanks for reading to the end! I hope you enjoyed yourself :3 I can't help but feel like breaking the first chapter into two disrupted the flow of the storytelling because as you can see, this is a much more natural place to stop and prepare for the next stage of Akira's life *sigh* I wonder, did you notice the disruption? Or would it have not occurred to you at all if I hadn't mentioned it? Tell me in the reviews, yeah?_


	3. Akira III

Akira III

Yoshiwara was the name Akira learned to associate with her new home, the red-light district of the city of Edo, and she came to know its glimmering mask, its ugly core, and the unexpected jewels among its muck and filth.

Having spent her entire life in the country where the nights were pitch black and cold, the lights and color of Yoshiwara at night became the perfect illusion to fool Akira into continuously underestimating the cruelty of the red-light district. The faces of happy guests tricked her into believing the brothel a place not as bad as it seemed. The smell of good food and perfume blocked out the scent of death in the back alleys, and the carefree conversations of people enjoying dinner with the company of dazzling geishas were loud enough to drown out the quiet sobs of those who, like Akira, arrived at Yoshiwara against their will. The beauty of the lanterns and expensive clothes Yoshiwara women wore still occasionally blind Akira from the filth of the city even years after her time there was done.

Kei had described the city of Edo as a wonderful place and although much of what he told her was correct, Akira saw some things that she wished her brother had remembered to warn her about like the crowdedness of the buildings, the starless sky, the unsanitary streets, the homelessness, and the nature of the work that took place in institutions like Akira's new home, although she concluded, after a moment of thought, that he probably purposely didn't mention those things to her if he had known about them at all.

It would be several months after being sold before Akira was made aware that Yoshiwara was only a small part of Edo, and the city itself as a whole was quite different from what she experienced during her time at the brothel.

The establishment she belonged to was one of many of the same sort in the district but supposedly one of the better off ones. Business was plentiful, and every day Akira was exposed to new people, some of them clients of considerably high class, and the experiences that led up to a certain realization were so inconspicuous that Akira didn't even notice it until a few days later: her brother had been right about the most important thing.

Beyond a curious second glance and a raise of the eyebrow, no one reacted to Akira's dual colored eyes.

.

An older man owned the particular house that Akira was sold to but, despite his position, rarely showed his face and left all management duties to Hawk-face, whose name Akira came to know as Tsuji-san.

For all his judgmental gazes, his sharp tongue, and his harsh nature which had made a very bad first impression on Akira, Tsuji-san wasn't so scary once Akira got used to his nagging voice and naturally cold stare. And despite the nature of the house he managed and the unfortunate way in which he and Akira were acquainted as a buyer and his purchase, Akira could never bring herself to hate him.

Despite herself, Akira's eyes had stung and clouded with tears as the full gravity of the girl's situation finally hit her like a train when her mother disappeared from sight.

"Stop crying."

Tsuji-san had snapped, looking down at her distastefully before roughly wiping her tears away. His palms were surprisingly smooth to Akira, clearly having never experienced greater physical labor than scribbling in his guest logs, and his voice was cold when he spoke but not malicious.

"It's unsightly. Don't ever do it in front of the guests."

His freezing tone had frightened the skittish Akira so much then that she had put all her will into not crying just so he'd stop scolding her, and it surprisingly worked.

"Good. Now smile for me."

The fact that it took more effort for her to smile than to cry should have alarmed Akira greatly, but she didn't dare disobey the man.

"Not bad. Work on making it more believable next time. A smile has to reach your eyes or anyone can tell it's fake. Come, we'll find some nicer clothes for you."

"… My eyes…"

Akira spoke for the first time since her mother left, and her voice came out so low and cracked that Tsuji-san had to bend down a little to try and catch what she said.

"What?"

"… they bring bad luck… My parents, my village, and then my brother…"

Tsuji-san scoffed loudly, sounding a bit annoyed. He must have rolled his eyes too, but Akira wasn't looking.

"Nonsense. Is that the kind of things you country hicks believe in?"

Akira kept her gaze lowered and remained silent. She had no energy to be offended or to argue her case, and the world looked blurry and ugly out of her teary eyes which she quickly tried to wipe.

"Whatever you were told, leave it behind you. This is the city, and this is your new life. You belong here now. I don't want to hear you talk about your old life anymore, understand?"

A dull pain throbbed in Akira's chest suddenly at Tsuji-san's words, which were neither demeaning nor praising but somehow comforting. The girl nodded timidly, the man's sure tone making her inclined to shed more tears but this time tears of relief at the stability his certain voice promised and some tears of pure, genuine sadness at the thought of shutting Kei away forever. Aware of the familiar closing sensation of the throat that signaled the building up of sobs again, she stifled the feeling with great effort and let Tsuji-san lead her by the hand into the darkness of the brothel.

.

The establishment was a large business, Akira quickly found out, and took up the entirety of the massive multiple floored building and the majority of the employees were courtesans and geisha, but a small number of other staff also worked there, including Tsuji-san the guest manager, a large and soft-faced chef named Asai-san who seemed the exact opposite of Tsuji-san in appearance, a boy called Shokichi barely a few years older than Akira as an apprentice of the chef, and Takakage-san, an accountant with a funny haircut who handled the brothel's finances.

Asai-san had been working at the pleasure house for longer than most of the other staff had even been alive, and Akira believed that if Kei had lived to his age, he would have turned at similar to the chef in personality. On the day Akira became property of the brothel, she was handed over to the chef and told to make herself useful to him. Asai-san, instead of instantly putting her to work, firmly sat her down at a table and placed a piece of bread in front of her.

"Eat up. You won't be able to do anything when you're that thin."

The care in his voice was not pity, which Akira would have hated, but genuine compassion.

Even still, it took Akira a good while of waiting and hesitating, unsure if he was really allowing her to take the food, before she tentatively picked up the bread with trembling fingers and slowly brought it to her mouth for a nibble, her gaze darting to Asai-san every few seconds to gauge his reaction.

The bread was softer and more aromatic than what scraps Akira ate while living with her parents, and due to not being used to consumer large amounts, Akira found that one loaf filled her up quickly, but the taste of the bread was good enough to risk getting sick. However, she did not dare ask for another one once she had eaten the first for she was hyper aware that she must make a good impression on the chef lest he judge her pathetic and not worth his time and kindness.

Akira twitched with a start when she felt a large hand rest on her head and instinctively braced herself, her breaths rushed and short, for a swat or the pain of her hair being pulled, but all she felt was the weight of the hand there, slightly uncomfortable but warm and gentle as it ruffled her tangled mess of hair.

Tsuji-san had ordered Asai-san to give Akira work to do, but the chef merely turned and silently walked back to the pile of rice he had been washing before meeting Akira after making sure the girl had eaten, leaving her awkwardly standing in the kitchens and looking around cluelessly.

Akira noticed he had a slight limp in his right leg.

The old chef accepted her from the very beginning and looking back on it, Akira realized he had probably seen the exact same event many times during his years working under Tsuji-san. His young apprentice, however, took longer to get used to Akira's presence.

Originally a stray picked up from the street by Tsuji-san, Shokichi was a messy haired boy with an accent that Akira, unsurprisingly, couldn't have possibly recognized. The moment he saw Akira, curled up next the table where Asai-san had left her, he freaked, though it was unclear exactly what he was upset about. Despite never necessarily treating her badly, Shokichi actively avoided Akira for weeks before he became accustomed to her presence around the building sometime in the spring.

Shokichi performed a number of chores for Asai-san including running errands in town, taking the trash out, and setting the trays of food to be taken to the guests, all tasks he did with determination burning in his eyes no matter how mundane. His body was a coil, full of energy just waiting to be unleashed into the streets of Yoshiwara through which he'd sprint to errands quickly and avoid thieves who may try to steal his purchases from the grocer. He was never more animated, however, than when, occasionally, Asai-san, a surprisingly strict master, would call him over after a long day of work and reward him by teaching him a new recipe.

They shined brightly, Asai-san's gentleness like a warm fire and Shokichi's youth like a blinding gem, and perhaps the darkness of their environment, the filth of the red-light district, made their glows even more tempting.

Akira shamefully wanted to soak in their light like a wilted flower desperate for the sun.

.

Akira never had the chance to grieve the loss of her mother because soon after she was sold, Akira was relieved of her temporary duties in the kitchens and introduced by Tsuji-san to a new mother-at least, Akira liked to think of her as a mother and a far nicer one than her biological one-and her name was Yuriye.

Tall, slender, and sweet-faced Yuriye had a cherry tree that was forever in bloom for a soul; Akira recognized it shortly after they met the same way she saw Kei's sun soul. Her looks were foreign, pointier than the average Japanese woman's, and she had the most beautiful red hair Akira had ever seen.

Tsuji-san, after instructing Akira to _be polite_ , handed her off to a wide-eyed Yuriye who seemed just as confused about the turn of events as Akira was.

"She's going to be your assistant from now on, Yuriye. She cost us quite a bit, so take care of her and teach her how it's done."

Something like a mixture between horror and sorrow flashed in Yuriye's eyes as she quickly glanced at Akira and then back at Tsuji-san, ready to protest.

"B-but…!"

Silence fell between the two girls when Tsuji-san left, ignoring Yuriye's anxious words.

Perhaps Yuriye knew from the beginning what was going to end up happening to Akira, and that was why she looked so pained when her eyes fell on the small girl. Akira had never known worry as intense as the worry in Yuriye's eyes, and she had never known strength such as that which Yuriye showed every day in the years she acted as Akira's mentor.

.

Yuriye was the star of the Tsuji-san's business, his most valuable employee, and the reason the owner of the brothel was rich. Nicknamed the Red Lily of Yoshiwara, her exotic beauty had made her one of the most desirable women the district had to offer since her debut, and clients had nothing but compliments for her looks, personality, and service. When she was requested to keep guests company, she naturally became the centerpiece of banquets, causing the other women to fade into the shadowy corners of the room as her expensive dresses reflected light from all angles, dazzling the eager men.

Just by taking on the duties of geisha and attend feasts with clients, Yuriye contributed to a considerable amount of the brothel's revenue, but her services as a courtesan was what she was truly famous for.

For a price far greater than any other courtesan would charge, a guest could take her to the top floors of the building and spend a night with her. The money flowed straight to Tsuji-san's hands which the manager would then pass on to the owner. Yuriye did her job and did it well, and the satisfied customer would leave to boast to his friends about having bed the red-haired beauty of Yoshiwara, prompting more men to spend a good lot their savings on Tsuji-san's business.

In time, Yuriye would awkwardly attempt to explain to Akira what prostitution was but by then, the girl could already guess for herself. There was no epiphany or dramatic moment of realization; as time passed, pieces simply and quietly fell into place in Akira's mind and one day, she _knew_ what happened on the top floors without even realizing that she had figured it out.

Although Akira had little instruction on what was morally wrong or right, having to witness the dealings of the establishment daily left a dry taste in her mouth and each time she saw the exhaustion in Yuriye's eyes after another happy guest leaves in the morning, Akira's heart twanged a little, and she grew to hate the sight of the older girl disappearing to the top floors at night.

As Akira brushed Yuriye's hair one day, her thoughts took her away and she unintentionally tugged on the older girl's hair harder than necessary. If Akira had not seen Yuriye wince slightly in the mirror, she would have assumed she didn't feel it at all. After guiltily patting the part of the beautiful hair that she damaged, Akira quietly apologized.

"I'm fine, Akira. Are you all right?"

"Yes, Yuriye-san."

Akira replied shortly and immediately returned to her task, perhaps taking a bit too much interest in the brushing.

"Have I upset you somehow, Akira?"

"No!"

Yuriye-san could never upset anyone. She would never get cause trouble for others. She would never get mad, not even at Akira when she made a mistake, not even at the other courtesans who resented her for her popularity, not even at the rudest and most self-entitled customers.

"Then what is it?"

Akira pressed her lips together in a stubborn line at first, determined not to reply, but her resolve quickly shattered when Yuriye caught her gaze in the mirror.

"…Yuriye-san does not belong in a place like this."

"I see. That is what is bothering you, Akira? Please do not worry about me. This is simply my life."

"Why can't you leave here?"

The fiery-haired women, her eyes cautious, made a gesture for Akira to lower her voice. Her gaze darted to stare at her hands folded in her lap as she answered with a slightly pained expression.

"Not so loudly, Akira, please. There are numerous reasons why many of the women here can't leave."

"I'm asking about _you_ , Yuriye-san."

The situation quickly became the reverse of what it was a moment ago. Akira pried while Yuriye tried to retreat into a shell.

Akira should stop talking so her mentor would stop making _that_ face, but she steeled herself and did not. She had always been weak to Yuriye, but not this time. She steeled herself so much, in fact, that she did not even notice the cold indifference in her heart toward the other women trapped in the house; the only one who mattered was Yuriye.

A long silence passed in which Akira made it clear that she was not going to go back to brushing until she got a reply, and at last Yuriye conceded reluctantly.

"I am indebted to Tsuji-san, Akira. I cannot leave until I pay off my debt."

"What kind of debt?"

"Monetary, nothing out of the ordinary. I was sold to him for a high price, and I need to pay him back that amount with interest in order to walk away from here."

Akira didn't know what interest was at the time, but she didn't bother asking for her heart felt as if it was being skewered as she at least understood that there was no way she'd be able to help her mentor get out of the brothel. She had no money, no property, nothing to help scrape together the cash needed for buying a prostitute's freedom, especially a prostitute as highly valued as Yuriye.

Always good at sensing Akira's emotions, Yuriye smiled, though her eyes remained sad, and gently patted the younger girl on the cheek as if reassuring her, telling her that it's not her fault even though Akira hadn't even said anything yet.

"If it makes you feel better, Akira, come here and I'll show you something."

After getting up from the vanity she was sitting at, Yuriye floated to her bed in the corner of her personal room, moving with a practiced grace that was one of the many things Akira admired about her, and bent down to the ground to reach under it.

Beneath a loose floorboard was a sack made from thick, dully colored material and wrapped at the opening with a thin roped tied in a complicated knot. A quiet metallic jangle sounded when Yuriye yanked the bag out from under the floorboard, and Akira quickly realized it was the sound of coins clicking together, similar to the noise she heard when wealthy guests with full wallets came to the brothel.

Yuriye undid the knot keeping the sack closed and as Akira guessed, the bag was half full of coins of all conditions, some new and shiny while others worn almost to the point of not being recognizable as currency.

"Tips. I've been saving since my debut."

The red-haired woman clarified before Akira's mind could conjure up some other way she could have gotten the money.

If anyone else had told Akira that, she would have immediately assumed it a lie. Tips simply out of the goodness of the customers' hearts were not only extremely rare, but Tsuji-san and the brothel owner discouraged it, so even if a guest was generous enough, he'd have to sneak it to the courtesan or geisha.

But Yuriye had built up more than enough credibility with Akira, enough that Akira's brain didn't shortcut from skepticism. As she considered Yuriye's explanation, the more she believed it because if anyone could earn so many tips, it would be her mentor; Yuriye was good, _very_ good.

A guest has never left the brothel feeling any less than fully satisfied after the company of Yuriye. Only the wealthiest men could request her, and they had more than enough money to throw some tips.

"It'll take a bit longer, but I _am_ going to try to escape this place, Akira. I'm halfway there already, so don't worry about me, please. Take care of yourself first."

Yuriye smiled, beautiful and calming, totally different from the smile she gave customers and at the time, Akira was so filled with hope for her teacher's freedom that she did not even consider what her life in the brothel would be like without Yuriye.

.

"You're doing it wrong, boy."

"Hey! I'm trying my best. Do you really expect me to do it exactly like you, old man? I'll end up chopping my fingers off if I tried to do it that fast!"

"Don't call me old man."

"Old man! Old man!"

Although he was a harsh teacher, Asai-san regarded Shokichi with a sheer fondness that Akira came to know was precious and rare to find in the eyes of other human beings, a glimmering gem and one she did not deserve.

During the short and rare times when Akira was not by Yuriye's side, she selfishly sat in the kitchens to soak in the light of the chef and his apprentice. She silently watched them, content with admiring them from a distance, always in love with their relationship but never daring to interfere in it.

The chef and the boy bantered, laughed, and worked together like perfectly fitted gears of a machine on the busiest business nights. Akira, in her room on the first floor, fell asleep to the quiet echoes of them joking with one another while cleaning the kitchen late into the night, and she woke up in the morning to, once again, their happy chatter and the smell of the breakfast they'd made together.

The harmony they had fascinated her, but it was not for her to reach out and take or to contaminate. They formed a perfect cycle of affection, kindness, and wonderful spirit that must never be interfered with lest the cycle breaks.

At least, that was how Akira it until the early summer day on which Shokichi talked to her for the first time.

"Hey."

"Huh?"

Akira jumped in alarm when the boy spoke to her. Panic raced through her body as she looked up at Shokichi's frowning face, and a horrible mixture of guilt and fear rose up in her throat. Had she disturbed them? Did she make them uncomfortable? Why was he talking to her? How stupid did she have to be to break another thing that she'd loved so much?

"You wanna learn how to peel peaches?"

"…"

Akira could only blink blankly up at him, eyes wide. Her body had completely frozen up in caution, afraid that the tiniest twitch would shatter what she had spent weeks marveling at with the greatest restraint.

"Tch. Come on."

Akira could have sworn Shokichi's cheeks tinted with blush as he looked away and roughly grabbed Akira by the wrist to pull her out of her seat; the girl nearly tripped because her legs proved unresponsive at first.

A small, pretty peach was shoved in one of her limp hand by Shokichi, and in her other hand, he placed a knife, making sure to force her fingers around the handle tightly. The way he pressed her fingers into the wooden grip kind of hurt, but it was a good type of pain, the kind that proved you were alive.

Asai watched them from across the table, and Akira was sure that he put Shokichi up to this, but that was a thought she quickly pushed to the back of her mind when she saw his eyes glimmering at her the same way they did at Shokichi; no matter how many times she saw it for herself, Akira could not quite believe that a person of Asai's age could have so much light in his eyes. When he caught Akira's gaze, the girl tore her eyes away with an urgency that was surely offense.

 _Stop. Don't look at me like that._

She winced, trying to shrink out of his sight and wishing she could disappear. She'd always been content simply looking at the light, but this is _touching_ it. For someone like her to be the subject of such a gaze is surely a sin.

The girl's heart clenched for she sensed that she was robbing Shokichi of some affection by accepting it for herself; love of such a pure kind should not be wasted on someone like her. Something so valuable should be reserved for the best people in the world, the Keis and the Yuriyes. But not Akira who was a black abyss, who shouldn't even be alive in the first place, who could not produce her own light in return to share with the world.

 _No. Don't help me. I don't deserve it. Get away._

With Asai watching her from one side and Shokichi from the other, Akira stared down at the items in her hands with foggy, uncomprehending eyes, making no move to peel the peach.

"… And then you cut this part off since it tastes bad… Are you listening to me?"

Breath hitching, Akira suddenly realized that Shokichi had been instructing her that whole time and in his hands when she looked was a neatly peeled peach, its white flesh shiny with juice and its scent tempting as it quickly wafted throughout the room.

Akira's nose twitched, but she swallowed and tore her gaze from the naked fruit in order to focus on the unpeeled one in her hands. Her fingers clumsily maneuvered the knife, and she'd barely made a cut before Shokichi interrupted, his tone annoyed.

"Hold it closer to the blade. Your knife's flopping around too much."

Akira awkwardly looked down at the knife in her hands and futilely tried to correct the way she was gripping it, ungracefully shifting it around between her fingers.

Shokichi instantly reached out and slapped her hand which effectively made her drop the knife back onto the cutting board.

"Stop that. You'll cut yourself in no time."

 _I'm sorry._

Akira instinctively cradled her slapped hand even though Shokichi hadn't hit it that hard. In an attempt to silently apologize and get out of the boy's way, she began backing away from the table, but Shokichi grabbed her wrist and stopped her before she could even take two steps. Before she knew it, the peach was placed back in her hands and the knife in the other.

The look on Shokichi's face when she gazed at him questioningly could only be described as one of pure stubbornness. He was going to make her peel the peach and make her like it.

As her fragile will quickly crumbled underneath the boy's determined eyes, Akira gave another weak attempt at peeling the fruit. She'd only almost succeeded in digging the knife into the surface of the peach before she was scolded once again.

"No, no, you're doing it wrong."

Her eyes widened and stayed that way when the boy let out a moody sigh before wrapping his own hand around Akira's knife hand, and carefully guiding the blade around the peach. She watched the way he expertly separated the thin skin from the fruit, spinning the peach around slowly which caused the peel to end up as one long spiral.

They didn't talk much and once they finished peeling, Akira let out a breath she didn't know she was half holding. Her eyes fell into shadow as she lowered her head, and a concealing curtain of her hair hanged limply as a shield between herself and the boy. She waited for him to scold her, tell her he'll never waste his time like that again, order her to get out of the kitchen and his way, but what she saw when she raised her eyes ever so slightly was not resentment or even disapproval.

She saw the small, satisfied smile on Shokichi's face as he admired the pretty shape of the peel before reluctantly throwing it away. She saw Asai approach them, eyes laughing, while holding a platter which contained the first peach Shokichi had peeled but now carved and cut artfully to resemble a white flower.

The three of them sat in a circle and quietly ate the fruit flower together, Shokichi practically shoving the food into his mouth, Asai likely restraining himself so that there would be more left for his student, and Akira tentatively nibbling on the unfamiliar and juicy flesh. Absentmindedly, while enraptured by the sweet taste of the peach, she mumbled to herself incoherently.

"… just like… san…"

"Huh? What did you say just now?"

Akira barely reacted to Shokichi's question, but continued to distractedly mutter.

"You… you sound just like Asai-san."

A beat of silence passed between the three of them before Asai roared with laughter much to the exasperation of Shokichi and the surprise of Akira who gawked at the elder man as his hand came down on her head affectionately.

And yet, all the while, the tenderness for Shokichi in Asai's eyes never lessened even as she regarded Akira with the same love.

It was only then that Akira knew Asai's fondness was infinite, and Shokichi's spirit was as contagious as Kei's smile.

.

In spite of her initial reluctance to the prospect of taking on an apprentice, Yuriye was a good mentor who taught Akira much more than simply how to act around guests and what to do in a banquet room.

Akira would find out that she had extensive knowledge of the night sky and was very good at styling hair-a talent she often practiced on Akira. With much persuasion, Akira was able to convince Yuriye to teach her these skills but never quite mastered the latter of the two.

On the clearest of nights, Akira saw the stars from her window although they were never as prominent as when she'd seen them in the mountains, but eventually she got used to the lower visibility and could no longer recall what the night sky looked like from her village.

When Yuriye had no clients on occasional nights, she'd sit with Akira in her room and fascinate her with the stars.

"Look at the sky, Akira. Find the brightest star. Its name is Sirius."

"… S-Sirius…"

The foreign name rolled clumsily off her tongue.

"It will be visible on most nights. Search for it every night, and once you can find it with ease, I will teach you more. Stars are the most useful when you know them well. You can use them to find your way home."

"… I do not wish to go home, Yuriye-san."

The older girl gazed at her face tilted up the heavens briefly, not pity in her eyes but empathy, and didn't ask any questions as if she knew Akira didn't want to elaborate.

"In that case, then let them guide you to a new world."

.

Since the day she became a mentor, Yuriye protected Akira from many things, but most of all the maliciousness of their coworkers.

As the student of Tsuji-san's most popular employee, Akira wasn't completely welcomed by the other women who resided in the house. Many were kind to her and her mentor, believing that coming together and looking out for one another was the best way to endure the filthiness of their occupation, but others were not so kind.

Although Akira could understand their jealousy as Yuriye _did_ have some rare privileges to further compensate for the amount of work she contributed than the average prostitute under Tsuji-san, she always harbored in her heart an irrational coldness toward the women who shot Yuriye dirty looks and gossiped amongst themselves in timid groups. It was a hatred she herself wasn't even aware of which festered in her heart a bit more every day.

There were times, though rarely, when Akira would catch herself in the mirror, her eyes so icy that she didn't even recognize herself. There were times when she found her mind crawling with wicked thoughts, too dark to say aloud, that scared even herself. It startled her to discover this side of her consciousness, but she quickly resolved that perhaps this twisted part of her had always existed, simply kept at bay until now by childhood innocence.

With courage in her heart, Akira was determined, for Yuriye and Asai-san and Shokichi, to keep her warped other self in check forever.

.

The first time Akira sat in the same room as a group of guests was in the late autumn when she'd lived at the brothel for nearly a year. The customers were of low rank, at least as low rank as Yuriye's patrons could get, so it wouldn't have caused too much trouble if Akira made a slight mistake.

Tsuji-san instructed her to sit quietly and observe the way the women entertained the guests.

Yuriye dressed her up in fine clothing, pinned her long hair in an elaborate style that matched her own, and led her to the banquet room, holding her shaking hand tightly the entire way.

 _Never stop watching the guests, but do not let them know that you are doing so, and remember that they are also always watching you._

Akira had not yet forgotten the real reason why Tsuji-san had paid so much to buy her from her mother. Although her mentor often assumed the role of a geisha, Akira was not a maiko; Yuriye could sing well enough to please the guests, but that was not something she could simply teach Akira, who had a relatively low voice which would surely not be popular. Lacking any artistic talents which could entertain customers, Akira had to make the most out of her only other weapons: a pretty face and practiced charisma, both courtesy of her mentor's makeup skills and excellent instruction.

 _Observe their actions, contemplate, and decide what you must do in response._

Conversation and grace did not come naturally to Akira, and it was only with Yuriye's infinite patience and Akira's personal investment in her lessons due to a desire to make her mentor proud that transformed her into a lady of Yoshiwara. Aware that her bad performance could reflect negatively on her teacher, Akira promised herself that she would never let that happen and immersed herself in her job.

 _Know what they want to hear, and give it to them at just the right time._

"Pardon the interruption, good sirs. I am Yuriye, and I hope you will allow my student and me to join you."

 _Anticipate, but avoid being too eager._

Akira bowed slowly, her heavy dress pooling around her as she lowered her head to the floor, taking care to not damage her hair.

 _Smile, and make them remember you._

"My name is Akira. I look forward to meeting you all."

.

The types of patrons the brothel served were people Akira had never seen before and would never have seen if she had not left her home village.

It would seem that their wallet sizes were proportionate to their presences for the wealthy men carried themselves with a confidence that no one in Akira's village could have boasted of and seemed to emit an aura that was bigger than life. To Akira, they looked like servants of the gods with their hair groomed better than most of the women's in the countryside and their faces clean and strong. They spoke with sophistication, walked and sat with grace, and each man always carried one short sword and one long sword on the left side. Behind their sophistication was power, both physical and mental, and purpose which left Akira awestruck as she watched them.

"What do they do for a living, Tsuji-san?"

Akira questioned the manager one day while the house was relatively empty and her mentor did not have any tasks for her to do, but Tsuji-san furrowed his eyebrows at her, his eyes deadpan as they glared down at the girl standing next to his podium.

"Hah?"

"The guests. How do they make so much money?"

Quickly giving up trying to scare the girl away with his scowl, the manager huffed exaggeratedly. He always acted as if he wanted her to go away, but he'd never actually invested that much energy into making her leave him alone when she didn't want to, so Akira eventually convinced herself that he never meant it when he treated her harshly.

"You know, Akira, you've gotten ten times more annoying since my glared stopped scaring you."

"I will try to be less annoying in the future, Tsuji-san."

"You brat, you're being annoying right now! I'm busy, goddamit."

"I am sorry."

Akira politely apologized but didn't leave which made the manager roll his eyes with a quiet groan and threw his writing utensil down in defeat.

"All right, all right! You want to know about our patrons? I'll tell you, so listen up; I'm only saying it once. The richest patrons are usually high ranking samurai who are employed by large domains or the Shogunate. You want to know what they're paid to do- _kill_ people who get in their boss' way."

Again, Akira detected that the man was trying to scare her enough so that she'll lose interest in the conversation and scram, but she kept her face straight.

"That's why they carry swords everywhere?"

"Obviously. They have to be skilled with a weapon to be of any use."

"I see…"

"Mind you, not every samurai is rich like that, and just being able to wield a sword doesn't mean you get a job. The samurai who request Yuriye are very skilled and in high favor of their employers to receive such a big paycheck."

"Why do the Shogunate and the domains have to pay people to kill their enemies?"

"Why do you think? Use your brain for once, you little shit. Enough questions! I answered your first one, didn't I?"

Having gotten the response she originally wanted, Akira found it reasonable that she left the manager in peace for now and saved her other questions for later days, so she did not press the inquiry and instead bowed in appreciation to him.

"Yes, you did. Please don't get mad, Tsuji-san. I only ask Tsuji-san because Tsuji-san knows everything."

Despite Akira firmly believing this to be true as the manager was often informed on the happenings of the country and its politics, Tsuji-san himself didn't think so and took the compliment the wrong way.

"Tch! Don't try to flatter me, brat. How stupid do you think I am?"

With that scathing remark, he moodily returned to the papers he was reviewing before Akira had interrupted, and the girl, satisfied with the information she had collected, obediently disappeared into the dark corridors.

.

"Yuriye" was not Yuriye's real name.

When Akira asked, her mentor admitted her real name would be far too difficult for any Japanese person to pronounce comfortably. It would, therefore, have been a bad business decision to allow her to keep it, so the name "Yuriye" was assigned instead, a pretty name, a delicate name, a local name that would catch on quickly as its bearer's reputation grew.

Despite the fact that she was never directly told this by any reliable source or any source at all before asking her teacher herself, Akira was aware from the day she met her that Yuriye was not of Japanese blood. This immediate assumption could have easily been a product of her lack of exposure growing up in a remote mountain village but even in Edo, Yuriye was unique.

In a lineup, she stood in stark contrast to the other courtesans with her full red hair, large eyes, and sharp face. She spoke Japanese well, but had an accent which was just barely noticeable enough that many guests found it appealing for its exotic qualities.

For weeks, Akira imagined the foreign land where Yuriye was born, where everyone had beautiful hair the color of fire, where words like "Sirius" were easy on the tongue, where Yuriye's family waited for her return. She saw variations of it in her dreams and envisioned it as she gazed at the sky. When, on an early winter afternoon, Akira's creativeness had run itself dry, she gathered her courage and brought up the topic while taking a walk with her mentor in the small courtyard behind the brothel.

"Do you come from a place faraway, Yuriye-san?"

The older woman stopped walking abruptly, her eyes widening as they gazed into the distance, and Akira's heart stuttered as she instantly realized her insensitivity and tried to take the question back..

"Yuriye-san? Please, I apologize. You don't need to answer."

Yuriye blinked, shaking her head slightly as if scolding herself for reacting the way she did. When she turned to look back at Akira over her shoulder, her smile was sad.

"No, it's fine… I understand you are curious. You are right, Akira; this country is not my homeland."

Although her eyes widened with captivation, the younger girl swallowed, her mouth dry and left with a bad taste upon detecting heavy wistfulness in Yuriye's voice, and she suddenly wished more than anything that she hadn't asked, but her mentor seemed to steel herself and continued walking as she spoke.

"The land where I was born is far, far away across an endless expanse of calm waters."

Suddenly it dawned on Akira, and her heart stuttered.

"You are from across the ocean, Yuriye-san."

Yuriye turned back to smile at her student again but this time with more life dancing in her eyes as if recalling the best parts of her past instead of the worst.

"Yes, but across mountains and rivers and deserts too and forests and plains. A great landmass lies across the sea to the west of this land, and on the other end of it is my country. You'd like it there, Akira… Rolling green hills for as far as the eyes can see, white shores, and the ocean glowing as if on fire before the setting sun."

The look in Yuriye's eyes was so forlorn that Akira had to avert her gaze for a moment before gathering the resolve to focus again on her mentor's face. The older girl looked be in a slight trance, lost in her memories of her country, until Akira tugged at her sleeve.

As they retreated back into the brothel, where the aroma of Asai-san's cooking had already begun to signal dinner time for the employees as well as prime business hours, to escape the growing chilliness of the season, Akira realized the reason Yuriye loved the stars so much was because they were her last hope of going home someday.

For Akira, the image of the faraway land beyond the sea with its green hills and white sands, the sound of star names such as "Polaris" and "Betelgeuse" flowing easily off of tongues, and the idea of the birthplace of her beloved mentor became collectively known as Yuriye-san's Country, a place Akira kept hopefully in her heart and never lost sight of in her mind's eye.

.

At times, Akira wondered where Shokichi came from, how he ended up on the streets, and where his family was. She wondered why Asai-san had a limp in his right leg, if the chef had children and if so, where they were now. But no matter how the curiosity crawled under her skin, eating her up from the inside out, she never brought herself to ask them those questions. She wasn't sure what held her back, but it seemed to be a different reason every day.

Even years after she left the brothel behind, Akira commended herself for biting her tongue when the urge to dig into people's pasts tickled her after she had learned her lesson with Yuriye. She didn't realize how considerate the chef, his apprentice, and Yuriye were for refraining from asking about her life before arriving at the brothel until she herself felt the itch of inquisitiveness.

To recall the village, her parents' abuse, and Kei's bloody body on that day would have been too much for Akira to bear.

Tsuji-san had told her to forget about her old life and devote herself to her new one, and Akira would come to the revelation years later that she would not have survived the transition if not for the patience and restraint of those in the staff who looked after her. Their light warmed her beyond her physical body; it seeped into the coldest crevices of her soul and shielded her from the muck of Yoshiwara.

Months passed and then a year and Akira did not think of the woman who left without looking back, the forsaken village where she was born, and that cold winter day at the ocean with her brother.

The everyday features of the brothel meshed into the fabric of Akira's daily life. She got used to the thick scent of perfume that crawled through the halls, the dim lights, and the loud chatter of the guests in their banquet rooms at night, all things she hated when she initially arrived at the brothel. She got used to navigating the maze-like halls of the giant building and running errands up and down the stairs for Yuriye-san and occasionally dressing up to meet guests. She got used to the smell of Asai-san's cooking wafting through the house at exactly six o' clock every day and watching Shokichi disappear down the road every other morning from her window and then come back with groceries in tow.

And occasionally, Akira would look to the sky on clear days and recall a fleeting memory of her brother whose soul was reflected in the blinding disk of the sun.

* * *

 _A/N: Hello, precious reader! I'm so glad you made it to the end omg ;w; it was a long ride, I know, but our Shinsengumi boys are coming soon, I promise! Probably in two more chapters, so look forward to it! In the meantime... leave a review for me?_


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